Page 18 of The Southern Thirst Trap

“The attack was to get into a project that isn’t ready and the hackers stole proprietary information that is likely already sold to our competitors. It means years of work down the drain if we can’t push production and get our product out before anyone else. It’s also tanked a bunch of our subsidiary stocks and we’re losing millions due to investors thinking we’ve had all of our data mined, so it’s been a stressful few days.”

“Oh, I see. You’re actually taking this bartender thing seriously and plan to spill your woes all over my kitchen.” She rolls her eyes and arches a brow before continuing. “Let me be clear. I don’t care. I don’t care what’s going on for you, professionally or personally. It doesn’t concern me and I’m not being paid to pretend otherwise. So what really brought youheretonight?”

I can’t stop thinking about you.“What do you think threw us together again earlier this week?” I say instead of the thoughts that bang around my head.

“Uh, traffic?” she says, her beautiful face twisting in confusion. “Wrong place, wrong time,” she continues sardonically.

I take a sip of the wine—it’s good, and a far cry from the tropical cocktails she enjoyed in the Maldives with me—and wave a hand through her explanation. “I saw you on the Atlanta Haute List just before Javi hit you. There’s a reason you were thrust back into my life twice in the span of a morning. I think you know why,” I say, hoping her thoughts run parallel to mine.

“Please enlighten me,” she says with another roll of her eyes. “I thought it was bad traffic navigation on your friend’s part. As for why you saw something about me, I never asked to be the focus of a local gossip blog, but you should know they don’t exactly take our feelings into account before writing about us.”

So she has read about me, too.She crosses her arms and cocks a hip, striking a pose worthy of being photographed when she’s just in her pajamas in her kitchen, dark hair tumbling down her back, calling me out on bullshit I didn’t even realize I was stepping in.

I skip the preamble, going for the real reason I’m here, hedging my bets that I may get more out of her this way. “You have a kid now. One who could conveniently coincide with a trip we took years ago, and you never mentioned him to me. All I have are questions, Lowe. You hold all the answers.”

My fingers grip the stem of the wine glass tightly while my words are looser than I would normally hold them, knowing she doesn’t want to play games any more than I want to. I realize I misjudged the situation when her posture changes, straightening up and closing off. How can I know her body so well, yet not know the right thing to say to her now at all?

She plants her hands on the island and stares me down. “My son is of no concern to you.”

“You think not?” The words come out quick and incredulous.Entitled.

She stiffens and I wonder why I’m making it my concern when clearly she doesn't want to share it with me. But I can’t let it go. Not when I saw the similarities for myself. I rub a hand across my face and feel what little patience I have waning.

“He has my eyes, Harlowe. I can see that from a grainy cell phone photo published on a gossip site. It could be a coincidence. Who knows if you found another gray-eyed man to fuck right after me, but I’m thinking that’s not the case.” The words are sandpaper in my throat, tearing up from a locked-down vault and exiting before I can carefully filter them out.

I know as soon as I speak that I hate the idea of another man touching her and fathering a child with her. I hate that I could be wrong when I don't even know if I want to be right. I hate that I want to move around the island and bend her over it, making more gray-eyed babies with her.Fucking hell, get a hold of yourself, Olsen!

“You better drink that wine faster; you’re overstaying your welcome.” She says the cold words with a hot fury as she unwinds her arms from the protective stance along her waist and paces down the length of the island before returning with a look of righteous indignation animating her striking features. My Wildcat is still in there, vicious and beautiful, willing to claw and fight, to challenge me like the valkyrie she could so easily be. “You think you can waltz into my home, demanding to know about me and my life afterfive years?” She laughs bitterly before returning her fiery gaze to me. “You discarded me like a used cum towel. Why now? Why couldn’t you have cared back then, when it actually mattered?”

“You knew what you were getting into when you boarded that jet. I laid it out clear as day, and you agreed. It was just an all-expenses-paid vacation where we would fuck like bunnies and have a really good time in paradise. It would be over when we got back. I never lied to you or told you I would be good relationship material. I’m not.”

I’m standing and moving toward her as my words froth at our feet, white-capped waves rushing onto a desolate shore and leaving the foam of memories behind. I don't intend to touch her, but suddenly, I have her in my arms, her hands on my chest and face tipped up to meet my eyes, a look of surprise widening her gaze.

“What are you doing?” she asks hotly, her furious breaths pressing her chest against mine, fingers unconsciously curling into my shirt like she wants to keep me close. Do it, little Wildcat. Claw me, bite me, fuck me up and keep me here.

My hands roam along the too-familiar planes of her body, one coming to rest at the small of her back, just above the swell of her amazing ass, the other tangling in her hair at the nape of her neck and pulling until I get a sound from her I’m sure she doesn't want me to hear. It feels so natural. So right.

Fuck, what am I doing?I shake my head slowly. I can only answer her honestly, no matter how convoluted it is.

“Reminding you of what we enjoyed, as per our agreement,” I growl, my eyes trained on her lips.

My body moves unhurriedly into hers as my brain disengages from rational thought. She makes no move to step away, her body warm and pliable against mine, eyelashes fluttering. I kiss the surprised O of her mouth before I can stop myself. It’s a brush of lips, butterfly soft, that has hers parting against mine. I sweep my tongue against hers, still soft, still tentative. She tastes like red wine, dark chocolate, and something drugging that is altogether her that I will never be able to get enough of.

My fingers clench, tugging her hair, and a little whimper rises in her throat. I keep the kiss gentle when I want to haul her up onto the counter and pillage her lips. I take my fill of her mouth slowly. The intoxicating taste of her that hasn’t changed in five years sends my head buzzing with adrenaline, my veins pulsing with the rush I crave so badly.Mine. Mine. Mine.I move my lips to flutter along her jaw, feeling her neck roll to give me access, and am seconds from biting just under her earlobe where I know she’s sensitive when she freezes in my arms.

Cold clarity washes over me. I remove my lips from her skin and my hand from her hair, pulling back immediately. But I can’t bring myself to let go of her hip, where my fingers dig into the plush softness like I need an anchor to keep myself attached to her. The steel rod of my cock is pressed tightly against her hips and has a mind of its own that very much wants this to continue.

I shouldn’t have done that, and I damn sure shouldn’t have come here tonight. This was a mistake I couldn't stop myself from making. My thoughts refocus, disengaging from the very physical reaction I have to her. I have to stop this, stop thinking it’s okay to touch her now, when I know better. I have to kill this piece of me that wants anything more than I should.

“We had a physical connection. You weren’t offered a place in my life other than for the duration of a trip.” The words ground me in reality, not the fantasy land I thought I could get away with exploring again, even just for a few minutes.

She untangles herself from my grasping hands and puts more space between us, her molten chocolate eyes flashing. “What the fuck is this?” she hisses. “Are you trying to rub my face in how I misjudged you? Why would you kiss me like you want me, while telling me I mean nothing to you and you never offered me more than what I got? Just to, what, make me even more aware of what wasn’t on the table to begin with?”

I rake a hand through my hair and look around, not sure why I’m acting without thinking, doing the exact opposite of what I know I should. I shouldn’t even be here. I should have told my brothers my suspicions and let them subpoena a paternity test and kept out of a fifty-mile radius from the gravitational pull she has on me. Where’s the fucking restraint I usually have in spades?

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” My voice is gritty with self-loathing. I hate not knowing the motivations that push me to be so fucking impulsive, to overstep boundaries I put in place for this very reason. How could I lapse like this?

It’s Harlowe. She’s the antithesis of my rules, and everything my desires want, but my self-preservation knows isn’t good for me.

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